Araniel
by charterfire
Summary: A story of the old kingdom. Can Araniel, a gifted charter mage aid the abhorsen? Can they stop the army of dead that threaten the kingdom?
1. The Wards are Laid

Araniel.

Chapter one: the wards are laid.

The castle of the charter's guild was a draughty even in high summer. It would have been the work of minutes to alter the stones to alter this, however the stones were so intensely layered with charter spells that even a mastermark would whither in the mere influence.

Araniel contemplated this flaw in the castle as she sat in the main hall. It was the weekly meeting of the guild which she almost always found excessively dull. The one consolation of these meetings was that it gave Araniel time to look in detail at the great hall itself. It was a magnificent hall. Oak beams arched over the ceiling to form a remarkable structure which the joining on the mood seemed to elude vision. Thus it seemed to flow. The theme of flowing was common in the great hall, it had been built that way in order to represent the eternal and infinite flow of the charter.

As her mind wondered onto the subject of the charter she thought back to her lessons of the morning. Her class had been studying how mastermarks could be linked to form imperial spells. She had gotten the impression that even the older guild members did not grasp her concept.

Then in the conversation she heard a name that made her mind snap back to the talk: Abhorsen. "she will be visiting for four days," the guild master informed, "she is coming to visit so she can overview the distortions. Now we all know that the Abhorsen has many enemies so we will be increasing security around the grounds. The guardian spells have not been renewed for over a year now so we will be relaying them over the next few days, the more senior guildsmen will be required to attend the wall at the eleventh hour. Now, we have received the new parchment shipment from Belisaire ......"

The voice seemed to trail off into the distance as Araniel again lost interest, but now she had a great deal to think of. The Abhorsen before Sabriel had only visited once when Araniel had been alive so now she had the chance to approach someone who could help her.

The next morning at the ninth hour, she went to the chambers of the advisor. She knocked on the wrought oak door, then realised that there was no echo on the other side. She traced a mark on the door, she saw light flashing out form under the wood, so her signal had definitely been seen. She heard the receding hum of spells and then the creaking of the door.

"Araniel, greetings. What can I do for you?" asked Ekrael, his wizened eyes creasing into a smile.

"Greetings Ekrael, I have come to ask you about the new spell layers." "Carry on then." "Well I wanted the approval of the guild to lay new spells. As you know I have recently been able to form imperial marks, I would ask that I am able to add their protection to the spells already present."

"As you know I am a great supporter of your new abilities, and doubtless you are the most powerful mage here who is not of the Amkr," he began supportively, then sighing, "however, It is my belief that the council will not consent to the placing of new spells. They are slow to trust new methods of magic. Why then I remember when the mastermarks were first used, they did not defend with those for over a hundred years."

It was moments like these when Araniel remembered that Ekrael was not a man. He was a sending. The original founders of the charter guild had created him as a advisor and he had grown in strength ever since. A respected guide and the only sending to receive an Amkr, he held a strong will within the council. Though the wisest being in the guild, the masters did never forget that he was not a human. Thus they did not allow him to hold real power, only as a councillor did he have influence. Araniel talked with Ekrael for some time until she heard the bell of the eleventh hour, reminding her that she was late. She bid her farewell to Ekrael, bound as he was to the castle.

As she ventured out through the grounds, it was the end of summer so they looked particularly picturesque. The willow and rowan trees were turning a rich golden brown and the scents of the flower gardens wafted towards her. She looked to the east of the grounds where the armouries and the stables were located. She saw the rising column of smoke followed by the quick flash of charter spells for water, indicating that an apprentice had again fumbled his iron whilst his master was at the wall. As she turned from the inner grounds to the outer areas, which included some accommodation for guests not of a charter mark, practicing fields for archery or powerful charter magic and the many defences, Araniel saw the wall.

Unlike the wall of the Old Kingdom border, this wall glowed with flowing charter marks. This was because it was not built by the wallmakers but by the founders of the guild who had first built the castle. It was added to regularly by the masters of the guild; the layers of spells encased within the stone gave great protection and wrought terrible destruction on the enemies. The aura given off by the charter marks was occasionally brightened by the more offensive mastermarks.

As she arrived, the masters were waiting. She knew they would. They had to stop the spells in the wall in order to renew them. As it was the most important defence of the castle, they had every mage not renewing marks on the duty of watch.

"Araniel, we need you to lead the watch!" called one of the masters. Araniel nodded, she had expected as much.

As she did not possess the Amkr, which was a symbol of power and dedication to the guild, she was not trusted to place spells. She thanked the apprentice who brought her, her bow and axe and ascended to the top of the wall to overview the area.

From her viewpoint on top of the wall Araniel looked out to the blue green waters of the sea of Saire surrounding the island. She looked down the spit of land that connected the guild island to the mainland. It was over 500 metres long and was covered at night by spelled tides. It had been built to provide a barrier against the dead. However, it was not the only sea based defence, only one of many.

Araniel watched as the great white breakers crashed down on either side of the split. Occasionally, one of the pure white stallion sendings leapt all the way across the spit into the receding wave on the other side, the frothy waters swallowing the horses before rearing them up again in the new wave.

She looked back to the wall, its golden flowing aura was slowing, then the symbols stopped, carved symbols, grey and dead in the black obsidian. The masters then worked immediately, drawing symbols in the air, linking marks into master symbols which sunk into the rock.

About half an hour into the ceremony, Araniel saw a dark spot on the spit, just coming onto it from the direction of the northern city of Annden. From what she could see, it was about 20ft high and darkly coloured, probably black. Araniel reacted to this in two ways. First a high ringing sound emitted from the symbol that Araniel traced into the air, alerting the masters to the possible threat.

As the sea breeze whipped up her hair, in it's hazel waves, she gave a low whistle, another breeze then flowed from the west as she had wanted. With grievance she received what she had been dreading, the metallic tang of free magic, which instantly urged her to initiate her defensive spells. But before she drew the powerful chains of mastermarks, she stopped herself. She had instructed many of the apprentices who now stood before her on the ground, straining their power for a long distance sight spell, she knew that it was beyond many of them, sight spells were complex, the masters not renewing spells looked on. They could see something that Araniel also saw through her spell, it was a war wagon coming onto the spit. This wagon was moving fast, it would arrive before the ceremony was over. There seemed to be around fifty dead accompanying it, although they were behind the wagon, protected.

"It's a wagon!" Araniel called out to the apprentices, "Accompanied by fifty dead! Everyone call marks of purity and shielding send them to around a hundred metres down the spit!" In a flurry, apprentices began to trace marks in the air, fingers or blades leaving a thin, golden trail.

As the more experienced added to their spells, the apprentices sent their spells to the spit. The congregation of around 30 spells made a golden barrier. A few held as the wagon crashed against the shield, but most of the weak spells were broken by the sheer size of the weapon. The spells of purity however seemed to have no effect, the dead walked straight through them. Marks for purity usually expolded into flame when the dead passed.

"Battle marks!" shouted Araniel, these were no ordinary dead, she did not want to take risks. "On my count, "alerted Araniel, "release blades! Aim for the wall of the wagon!" with this order, apprentices started to call marks with a new urgency, holding them in the air and filling them with power.

As Araniel reached her final number the whole multitude summoned the extra power to their marks and incanted, "Anet! Carlew! Ferhan!" Over a hundred and fifty silver blades of charter fire flew at the wagon, stripping the outer layer of wood from the structure, revealing a layer of metal. This was too much for the weak power that cast the marks and they failed. Withering down into nothingness.

Araniel could sense that this was the only other layer of defence, rather than further tiring her students, she chose to demolish the layer herself. "Anet Carlew Ferhan Hailas Laignu!" she summoned, the marks materialised in the air. Five shining blades of golden charter fire, each equal in power to a hundred of the apprentice's spells. They shot through the air at incalculable speed, shredding the wrought iron like butter and demolishing the remaining tiers of wood to expose the dead. Work done they returned to the charter leaving only trails on the eyelids of the apprentices as evidence.

With a shock, Araniel saw what else had been shielding behind the metal, the free magic she had smelt had been the spells disguising its presence. A construct. Before Araniel had time to react spells of sleeping and paralysis hit the apprentices. These combined forced the apprentices to fall unconscious. Araniel deflected the spells but was confused, how could the free magic being know that spells of death would not work next to the wall's protection. However, she also realized that it was not of great intelligence as these wards did not work when the wall was down. She looked down to her left and right only to see that she had only 3 out of five junior guildsmen still standing.

"Defences for the masters!" called Araniel. The guildsmen then started to draw a diamond wall between Araniel and the masters with fallen apprentices. She had taught them this drill for when she was going to use powerful marks, in the case that enemy fired back to fast for her. Once the wards were complete she started to draw a chain of marks form the charter, linking them together into a circle of charter marks which included marks for spinning, attraction, water, strength, purity and many more. Once a circle of marks shone in the air in front of her, she set it spinning on a circular pattern, it increased in speed until it formed a solid sphere of spinning marks. She then shaped it so it was long and would be around the length of the spit. Then she released it.

The shining cylinder raced down the spit, drawing torrents of water from the sea into its trail until it formed a wave wielding the raw power of the ocean. The added force of a new mark, forced the wave to form a curve, and then a circle when it reached the construct so it imploded within throwing up a fountain of water, sparks and steam. But the falling water that landing on the spit did not seem to affect the dead. Araniel then thought that the dead had not been affected by the sunlight that fell after the wagon had been decimated. These were obviously no ordinary dead, and thus by the rules of the guild, a threat to be destroyed immediately. Araniel reached for one of the arrows in her quiver.

It was an arrow of rowan, the feathers were red and white, indicating its use to a person without the sight. The white represented purity and the red, fire. The marks in the arrow combined into the creational spell of true death. The marks were contained in the metal and would spread once they hit. Araniel strung her bow and fired an arrow at the host first in the approaching line, the arrow she expected would wipe out most of the dead.

Just before the arrow struck, it flashed with a white spark and vanished. The cause of this was an arrow ward cast around the dead. About to cast a spell that would completely destroy all of the approaching dead in an instant Araniel was distracted.

She was distracted by the high ringing sound, of Ranna.


	2. The Guild

  
  
Chapter two: the Guild.  
  
The intoxicating sound of Ranna curled into Araniel's ears as she identified it. The sweet lullaby wound around her legs, then higher around her waist, continually rising until it reached her head.

She fell into a sweet peaceful slumber as her brown eyes slowly closed. With a parting breath of marks she fell to the golden sands, dreaming of the guild.

The guild had been founded by three great charter mages. Litha Failas, Hanin Dewlong and Sayec Sildra.

The dead ran much in the times, necromancers raising hordes with the discovery of the bells. The first Abhorsen was new to power and spent much time writing the skills down for future generations or building his house.

Thus these charter mages had chosen to build a great guild and castle where charter mages could be housed and trained, without fear of the dead. The site of the guild had been decided for its defence against the dead; the running water had been a great resource to the mages. However, the waters did not always cover the spit at night. The three mages began work on a great spell, it would influence the tides to rise at night and fall in the day. The spells creation took days, the three only survived due to the devotion of their students and the marks of energy and healing they formed. But when finished the guild had a site that was secure against the dead.

Work began after the spells were complete, the mages each worked on their own part. Litha crafted the wall, placing spells into the black obsidian that was carved by her power. It took her three years to form the physical structure and a further seven to place the marks carved into the stone.

Dewlong built the castle, nearly all of the students and people in the surrounding areas worked on the structure. It was designed to be both castle and fortress, thus the halls were masterfully built, incorporating great halls, personal chambers, kitchens, courtyards, practise rooms and all of the other rooms that could possible be needed. Also in the castle were defences, hidden and obvious, the halls them selves were designed to be un-traversable except by those who knew them. The building work was completed in five years but the spells were cast in another three, aided by the many charter mages who had helped to build. The remaining two years while the other two masters were working, Dewlong spent making furniture for the castle, even this was crafted as a defence, all of the wooden furniture was created from rowan or willow.

Sayec built the parts of the castle that were the most special; the libraries, armouries, stables, observatory, catacombs and many other parts of the castle that were of equal importance.

However, the most powerful part of the castle that he built was the great tower. It was defended by so many marks that it seemed to be the source of the charter itself. The high defence was placed for good reason. The great tower held a long room at its top. The large windows looked out on all sides of the tower, to allow the sound to carry best. Hanging from the rafters in the rooms were the seven bells. The same bells that hung across the breast of the Abhorsens, only giant. The bells were crafted as the final defence of the castle. They could not be rung by any human or being of free magic let alone any force that moved on the land or air. Only a superior caster of the charter could make them ring.

The Weeper was hung away from the other six, protected by another layer of marks. Only the combined power of the entire guild could ring the bell, its ring would be heard for over ten miles if it was heard, it was said it would bring down the river of death to the castle.

The wards on the bell tower and on all parts of the castle were renewed many times by each generation; most adding new defences or sendings, sometimes both. But every generation without fail renewed to spells on the wall regularly.

It was the year before the restoration, during the renewing ceremony, that Araniel was found.

The hot breeze of the summer solstice was irritating the mages. It accentuated the already strenuous task of renewing the wards. Beads of sweat ran freely from the guildmaster, in between two mastermarks she lifted her pale white robe to brush back her white blonde hair which stubbornly fell into her eyes.

About to resume her work, she instead instinctively drew a mark of death from the charter. Cradling it in her crooked fingers, she turned around swiftly to face the cold breeze and stench of free magic. Instead of the sound of bells or the crackling of lightning she heard running water. Calling to the other masters she drew Saiyon. Its blade glowing with white- blue charter marks, confirming her fears. The cold breeze and running waters came from an invisible portal to death. She looked about 10ft in front of her, to the source of free magic.

Black flames blossomed from the sands, building up until they formed a 6ft column of flame which thinned out and became more defined until it had the shape of a man, or more specifically a woman. It was facing out to sea, releasing stream as spray caught its body. It turned around and the masters could see that it was holding a child, a baby in fact. It laid the child down on the sand, wrapped in a woollen shawl.

Baby left, the construct dissipated, its darkened flames blowing into the wind until it blew away completely, leaving only the stifling heat of midsummer.

"Return to your task!" ordered the master, approaching the baby; still preparing her death mark. The child looked harmless, but the free magic mixed with charter spells that the master could sense was disconcerting.

As she got closer the master saw that the baby bore a charter mark on her forehead. She extended Saiyon delicately to touch the mark. It did nothing. The master lowered her sword to the baby's neck and placed the death mark into it, a black star in the tip of the sword, stark against the white and blue charter marks. But then the child's mark flared a bright gold, flames indicating that the child had the potential to be a mage of equal power to her. Relieved she replaced Saiyon and took the baby up to the castle.

Araniel had only ever been told a version of this story in which she was found outside the wall. She had asked if there was anything else but was refused any information. She imagined the many kinds of people that she could have come from. Royalty, travellers, anyone; they would have to have been mages of some definite power, but who?

Araniel contemplated this fact in her dream before she awoke with a start. She sat up immediately, preparing herself for battle before investigating her surroundings. Once she stood with sword in her left hand, crooked fingers in the other, she surveyed the beach. The wall was complete, shining and golden. All of the guildsmen had gone, but she was not alone.

Standing about two metres away, was a necromancer.

Sorry to leave you on a cliffy again (in fact the same one i left you on before....silent chuckle but more will be up soon!)

charterfire


	3. The Necromancer

> Chapter three: the Necromancer.  
  
Araniel surveyed the necromancer standing before her.
> 
> Tough boots, thick leggings, sword held within its scabbard and of course the bells, set securely within their bandolier. Only their mahogany handles showing.
> 
> With relief, Araniel noticed the night-blue surcoat emblazoned with a dusting of silver keys.
> 
> The Abhorsen.
> 
> She let her axe drop to her side, her fingers relax and the destructive powers of the charter slip back to their eternal flow.
> 
> "Abhorsen Lirael, greetings," began Araniel graciously, "we did not expect you for a few days yet."
> 
> "Yes that was my original plan, but the construct I was chasing came here first so I had to follow."
> 
> "What became of the dead?" Araniel questioned, realising that there was no grave mould or sign of struggle. "Why did you stop my arrow!" she continued remembering the first attempt to destroy the dead. "And why did you use Ranna on me!"
> 
> "Be calm Araniel." gestured to the gates which stood open, "Walk with me in the garden, it is not safe to talk here, I will explain."
> 
> The two walked into the garden, past the roses and the vegetables to the fountain, and the charter stone.
> 
> It had been placed by the King man years passed, it was in the centre of the gardens and offered a place of quiet and contemplation, it was also the part of the castle that held the most risk of dead.
> 
> Lirael raised a golden barrier that would hold all sound then she and Araniel sat at the edge of the pool.
> 
> "They were not dead." stated Lirael simply," they are a new breed of dead, as it were. I am intending to inform the council of their existence at the chamber tonight."
> 
> "How can they not be dead? They had no charter marks but they were not harmed by marks for purity."
> 
> "It is a new perversion of the charter, cast by necromancers it infests the spirit of the human with a dead spirit, it is similar to a mordaut but they can travel in sunlight. They cannot cross running water but it does not harm them is they are splashed."
> 
> "How is this possible? The charter baptism should defend against this distortion of the charter!" Araniel was shocked, a charter baptism was supposed to keep the spirit pure within the human.
> 
> "I am not fully aware of how it is done, but once the spirit has been destroyed then the charter is restored to the person."
> 
> "How can it be reversed?" Araniel questioned, these new enemies were a great threat to the guild, as every new perversion of the charter was.
> 
> "By restoring the thought and character to the person. The call of Belgaer should do this but the spirit must still be destroyed once this has been done otherwise it will run free. I am sorry that I had to use Ranna on you but you would have easily killed those people."
> 
> "Oh its ok, but why didn't anyone wake me up once you'd dealt with the spirits?"
> 
> "Well, for one thing I didn't know how you would react, and another I had no hope of getting through your personal defences before you woke up."
> 
> "What defences?.......Oh I had forgotten about those spells, I didn't know they would work against a spelled sleep. That's good to know."
> 
> "How did you manage to cast marks like those when falling?" requested Lirael obviously surprised at their strength. "It would take me at least half an hour to cast marks of that power!"
> 
> Araniel drew a pendant from inside her shirt. It was a perfect of diamond, flawless, when looking at it directly, Lirael only saw the simple shape but through the corner of her eye it seemed to glow with a golden flame within.
> 
> "It's spelled with an imperial mark," Araniel explained, "When the wearer is asleep or unconscious it summons protections."
> 
> "Sorry, imperial marks?" "They're a new method of performing charter spells. If mastermarks are linked together they amplify the power enormously. Imperial marks allow for very complex spells, they can lie dormant until they are summoned if they are placed in an object."
> 
> "How come you the other members of the guild didn't disable the defences then?"
> 
> "No other guildsmen can perform them. I invented the method."
> 
> "What! I don't mean to demean your power, but surely you cannot be the only guildsman!"
> 
> Before Araniel could answer there came a bright light shining through the shield. An apprentice had come to fetch the two. Araniel gestured for an extra minute and continued.
> 
> "Its true, most of the masters can form all of the mastermarks required but for some reason they cannot form the bonds."
> 
> About to reply, the surprised Abhorsen was again alerted by the apprentice.
> 
> "Come to my chambers later after hours, we will discuss this matter, amongst other things."
> 
> The Abhorsen held up her hand and the golden shield flowed down onto it until it first formed a golden fiery aura and then a circle of marks that formed the spell, these in turn faded as Lirael rose.
> 
> "Abhorsen," the apprentice addressed, evidently uncomfortable for interrupting the distinguished necromancer, "Araniel, you are both requested to attend the distortion chamber, the masters are about to draw the marks."
> 
> "Thank you....."
> 
> "Jordek Maam."
> 
> "Thank you Jordek, we will proceed to the chamber directly. Araniel would you lead me?"
> 
> "Of course Abhorsen, you can go back to your duties Jordek."
> 
> Taking his eyes from the bandolier. Jordek gave a slight bow and turned started back to the palace, followed by Araniel and Lirael.
> 
> The chamber of distortions was held within the catacombs below the castle, it was a dark room built of Obsidian, a slab of white marble stood in the centre.
> 
> "Abhorsen, Araniel, we will now begin the proceedings." The master rose and began tracing marks in the air as the other masters did so, a glowing map appeared on the marble.
> 
> It showed the entire Old Kingdom in all detail, tiny pinpricks of golden light showed the location of charter mages.
> 
> Most of the masters themselves were intrigued by the map. It was seldom seen as it could only be conjured in the presence of a person of blood. The concentration of golden fire was strongest on the isle of the guild.
> 
> However, there were also two other marks on the isle, practically on top each other, one of silver and one of a crimson gold. There were other marks on the map of white and a darker crimson, but they marked the location of the Clayr and other members of the royal line.
> 
> "Those marks on the Isle, what are those?" Lirael asked, "I have not heard of them before."
> 
> "Well," the guildmaster remarked, seemingly confused, "the silver marks the Abhorsen, but I cannot place the other, it may also be you as you are of royal blood and a charter mage."
> 
> Somewhat satisfied with this response, Lirael looked over the map for what she had come for.
> 
> She found what she was looking for massing around the city of Hafmet. She had been told that these marks represented necromancers or humans bearing a sullied charter mark. The black fire was darker or paler depending on the strength of the caster.
> 
> Dead were not evident on the map.
> 
> "So it is to Hafmet that I must go. Would the guild permit me to stay here for three days until my guards arrive, then a further two to allow them rest?"
> 
> "Of course Abhorsen, I assume that all of your guards bear a charter mark?"  
  
"Yes, certainly."
> 
> "Good. You shall be in the chambers in the east wing. Araniel, will you show the Abhorsen to her quarters."
> 
> Araniel bowed to the master and turned from the room, followed by Lirael.  
  
Later that night Araniel took the walk through the castle, up the steps to the east wing and along the corridor to the guest chambers.
> 
> She knocked on the door and once met with an answer, turned the iron handle and let the door creak open.
> 
> "Greetings Araniel," welcomed Lirael, leading Araniel through to the main room. This consisted of a bed, desk, cupboard and two chairs in front of the fireplace.
> 
> The two sat on the chairs and began to talk about many things as they roasted hazel nuts. After about quarter of an hour Lirael commented.
> 
> "I cannot believe that you are the only mage who can form these marks. Power and abilities most often run in blood. Who were your parents?"
> 
> "I have to say that I don't know Abhorsen,"
> 
> "How many times, call me Lirael." "Lirael. I was found outside the wall, charter mark intact and no-one saw or could find anyone who brought me."
> 
> "Then it is a mystery. How strange that someone would give up a child with such strong powers."
> 
> A silence followed this comment.
> 
> "Well as I have three days free now, would you give me a tour of the castle tomorrow?"
> 
> "Of course Lirael. I have a fighting arts class to teach at the tenth hour, perhaps you would care to come to the end of that."
> 
> Lirael assented and after the goodnights Araniel returned to her chambers in the west wing.
> 
> Sorry that this was rather a chatty chapter but i was setting things up for the rest of the story. the next chapter will have much more action and should be up before the end of the week!
> 
> Authors note: Sabriel is dead, she and the dog went beyond the ninth gate when they defeated orranis. Lirael is the Abhorsen and is just as good as Sabriel was. Both Lirael and Araniel are in their mid twenties, unmarried and unattached. all of the other characters form the Abhorsen are as they were.
> 
> charterfire


	4. The Great Tower

> Chapter four: The Great Tower.  
  
Twenty minutes before the eleventh hour, Lirael came down to the courtyard in the grounds.
> 
> It was a large cobbled square, to the side there was a porch area which housed a rack which held many weapons of different types.
> 
> The class being taught was an intermediate class. It ranged with people between the ages of 15 and about 25. Lirael could see that they lacked the skill and power that would be needed to move higher in the fighting arts, but they had potential.
> 
> "NO! NO! NO!" Araniel bellowed, evidently exasperated at her students, "How many times do I have to say it! Do not alternate between physical and magical attacks! Ah, Abhorsen."
> 
> Instantly the class whipped around, keen to have an excuse to break eye contact with their fearsome instructor.
> 
> All of them bowed, then reluctantly turned back around.
> 
> "We will try this again, please try to impress our guest somewhat."  
  
The group paired off, each facing their partner they took a bow and waited, weapons out, fingers crooked.
> 
> "BEGIN!" yelled Araniel sounding rather too irritable for a woman in her early twenties.
> 
> Duels ensued between the pairs. Each swiftly attacking the other with a volley of marks and physical attacks. However, Lirael could see the flaw just as Araniel could.
> 
> Each apprentice mage would attack with their weapon and then back off to cast marks.
> 
> "STOP! None of you seem to have understood what I have said. We need a demonstration here. Is there anyone willing to fight me? Don't worry you wont be hurt."
> 
> The silence that followed this request was deafening. All of the apprentices looked as far away from Araniel as they could without turning. They were clearly terrified of her.
> 
> "I accept your challenge Araniel." stated a charter mage standing before her.
> 
> "Excellent, choose your weapon." The challenger picked up a quiver, bow and sword from the rack, walked to the square and stood opposite Araniel. Both bowed and stood ready.
> 
> "BEGIN!" called one of the apprentices. The effect of this command was instantaneous. Araniel drew her axe and swung it just in time to slice through the quickly spelled arrow that Lirael had fired.
> 
> Immediate threat overcome. Araniel again swung her axe, a mark placed into the axe which left a trail of golden fire lingering in the air. This propelled by magic sent a blade of power towards the Abhorsen, but this too was deflected by a shimmering shield.
> 
> The two combatants then leapt towards each other, both swinging weapons. Quick jabs and attacks all deflected by equally skilled and aggressive blows. On one pop-thrust Araniel sent a blast of charter lightning ricocheting through her axe, this shot up Lirael's sword and caused her to leap back. But not before sending a missile of charter flame. However, this was blocked as a spelled wind tripped the Abhorsen.
> 
> By the time that Lirael recovered Araniel was standing over her, axe held to her throat.
> 
> "And that is how you attack." explained Araniel, helping Lirael to her feet with a friendly smile. "But I would like to point out that the Abhorsen is fighting without bells or her normal weapons, were she to be doing so it would have been an even match."
> 
> It was evident the lesson was over. All of the apprentices bowed and returned to their other classes.
> 
> "Sorry about that Lirael."  
  
"Oh its ok, I knocked you out yesterday so now we are even."
> 
> Both women linked arms and walked towards the castle. That afternoon Lirael wished look over the castle especially the great tower. They had to get permission from the master, but as Lirael's ancestor had created the bells, it was not a challenge.
> 
> Once they got to the base of the tower they were faced by a pair of sendings, each brandishing a vicious looking double edged sword. They touched the charter marks on both Lirael and Araniel to check them. They then gave way to a thin spiralling staircase.
> 
> Each step was flowing with marks for binding, purity and protection they were so densely spelled that they seemed to be more charter than stone.
> 
> The first real obstacle in the tower was a solid wall of charter symbols, each wielding it's own destructive trait. Araniel spoke the marks that would part the flow, quickly stepping through to allow Lirael passage.
> 
> The next part of the tower was a simple but effective trial. The sides of the tower were sheer, carved completely smooth, and to add to the effect had been rubbed with whale oil to prevent any possibility of climbing.
> 
> "This will take a minute," explained Araniel, "its quite a complex spell."
> 
> Before Lirael could answer, Araniel started to summon many marks. Around twenty marks went into a lattice on the floor, this in turn propelled by marks for strength and some whistled marks for wind lifted the two women to the base of the second spiral staircase.
> 
> As they came into the next room Araniel drew her sword and motioned for Lirael to do the same. Just before Lirael walked into the room, Araniel held her back. And not a second too soon.
> 
> Lirael heard a quiet whooshing sound, closely followed by a thunderous crash as an enormous circle of granite plummeted to the floor, sending up a hail of dust. The stone filled the entire shaft and would probably have weighed over a tonne. It was lifted by a thick rope to a height of about 20ft above the floor.
> 
> "RUN!"
> 
> Both women ran across the tower room, Araniel calling out charter marks which revealed the staircase to them, escaping into the charter illuminated passage just before the stone again crashed behind them.
> 
> This stair brought them to the next room which was entirely covered in flowing charter marks.
> 
> Like the first gateway, these were marks of defence and destruction, immense in power but immediately stilled by a spell, passed through Araniel's sword. This strip of path run along the floor and up the wall, allowing for passage through this precinct.
> 
> There was no obstacle to get into the next section, apart from overcoming the nausea that the paths righting of gravity seemed to induce.
> 
> This room had no obstacle, but the path to the next tower only appeared periodically, after it was summoned it would appear but only for a short time. At the end of this was a wall of charter fire that had to be quenched in order to allow passage.
> 
> But both women passed this without difficulty.
> 
> "I was of the impression that this tower was built by a charter mage?" questioned Lirael.
> 
> "Yes it was. Sayec Sildra built it and spelled the bells placed by the Abhorsen."
> 
> "But I am certain that the man who built this tower walked in death. All of the obstacles that we have passed are replicated from the precincts and gates of death. The path that we have been walking is he path that I myself walk."
> 
> "It must be mentioned in one of the books in the library, for some reason it always reminds me of somewhere I have been. Prepare your shielding spells Lirael, whether they appear in death or not, the charter fire that burns ahead is real!"
> 
> i'm hoping that you all realised that it was like death before lirael told you, i did try to make it obvious.
> 
> hope you enjoyed this chapter, the next one will be up soon!
> 
> charterfire


	5. Araniel's Rage

Chapter five: Araniel's Rage.  
  
As Araniel and Lirael walked into the room just below the bell hall, both summoned white-blue shields for best defence against the charter fires that burnt within the chamber. Smokeless infernos that attacked viciously to protect the bells that hung above.

"Anet! Carlew! Ferhan! Hailas! Laignu!" incanted Araniel, five glowing marks forming in front of her, "Sze!" this further mark sent the blades spinning around the two women, allowing a defence that would hold the flames for a while.

Araniel summoned the final marks that would open the gateway, she and Lirael quickly ascended the ladder that descended through the roof before the flames engulfed them.

As the stone floor reformed around their feet, Lirael surveyed the room.

All the walls were lined with windows affording the best view over the area surrounding the guild. In the west window the distant smoke of Annden chimneys could be seen. But to begin with Lirael saw none of this. She was completely absorbed in the bells.

She walked along them, feeling their power, their familiarity to the bells that she wore across her chest and the masterful craft and long labour that had gone into their creation. She touched all of the bells in turn, save two. She could not have touched Astarael even if she had wanted to, and the memory of her friend Kibeth had made use this bell as little as possible.

Araniel, while she was very interested in death, did not find excitement in the bells.

Thus she stood at the window, looking down the spit towards the southerly wood, and the distant mountain range of Aunden.

She looked down to the shore of the sea, and it was here that she saw a battle.

A partial unit of the royal guard were on the beach, charging towards the spit that lead to the guild isle. They were being hunted dead and a necromancer, they had evidently been at a village as they were helping people not of a uniform to get first to the island. It was not a battle, but a merciless slaughter.

The necromancer had held back, firing spells at the legs of guards, leaving them to be eaten alive by the dead. About to turn and run back down to the castle, Araniel saw what she thought only foul creatures of death would do.

The necromancer sent a spell of death towards a child, a girl of about 10 with short dark hair. It was a slow and painful death that he had inflicted, and one which could not be reversed.

Indescribable fury welled up within Araniel, summoning the defences of the castle she spat marks towards the sea, boiling fires of hatred rose upon her lips as she sent the stallion sendings on a murderous rampage.

They reared up out of the water, striking up torrents of steam and sparks as their manes and tails blazed with the white hot rage of charter fire.

The herd of sendings galloped up the beach, fires completely destroying all of the dead before they headed for the necromancer, charging with the fire and abandoned fury which sent him crashing into the far reaches of death, only to be consumed by a denizen of the sixth gate as his physical form was incinerated.

As the remnants of the necromancer's spirit crossed the ninth gate, Araniel was leaving the castle and running through the grounds. Accompanied by Lirael and a dozen apprentices she had alerted.

The guards and villagers stumbled through the gates as they arrived, only to collapse from exhaustion.

"Healing marks! Quickly!" ordered Araniel, drawing marks from the charters limitless flow and sending them to the wounded.

Making sure that an apprentice attended each person. Araniel then went to the girl whose fate was all but sealed.

Sweating and screaming, the girl clung to a woman who Araniel supposed to be her mother.

Araniel swiftly drew four marks from the charter, holding them in her mind and filling them with power before firing them in rapid succession. The first to reach the child was a cool spell. It would numb the pain, the second checked for any other injuries. The third repaired any minor afflictions such as grazes and cuts. The fourth mark wrapped itself around the source of the girl's anguish.

Isolating the master mark that pained her. The mark's power had not been lost as the necromancer's life went. But it had been weakened.

Araniel used her influence over the charter to try to stop the mark. But it could not be merely snuffed out. Lirael put her hand on Araniel's shoulder, but she refused to admit defeat.

Then an idea came to her, forming marks in her mind, she moved the mark of death from the girls forehead down her body. Once it was held in her lower leg. Araniel formed a complex master mark in her mind.

Releasing marks for sleep, numbness, cutting, separation, sealing and healing into a ring she placed around the leg. Whilst all of the time keeping the mark held in the leg by sheer force of power. The amputation spell worked quickly, leaving only a stump left of the girl's leg which was healing in seconds.

The girl's eyes slowly opened, her pain gone.

"She'll be fine." Araniel told the mother softly.

"Thank you! Thank you so much!" wept the mother. Fresh tears of joy breaking out as she embraced her daughter.

At this point, the masters arrived at the gate.

Duties forgotten, they went to the wounded, releasing powerful healing marks to speed the apprentices work.

The losses had been great, half of the guard unit had been annihilated as had the better part of the village population.

The village had been ambushed in the night, the chief mage had been sacrificed on the charter stone to break it. This portal to death had been used to bring out more dead. The survivors had been chased by the dead for a day and a half until they arrived at the guild isle.

Once their immediate injuries had been healed, the survivors were taken the out buildings to rest.

After they had been attended to, Lirael and Araniel went with the masters to the meeting hall to discuss what was to be done.

"The stone must be restored." began a lower master, voicing the immediate and obvious action.

"I fear that my presence here, coupled with the trouble brooding at Hafmet is the source of this. I will start for Hafmet in two days, and I will repair the charter stone on my way."

"Our thanks Abhorsen. We will send a unit of our own warriors with you as far as the village, we do not know whether any dead still linger there." the master replied.

He then sat down, the matter seemed closed.

"Masters," Araniel began tentatively, "As the Abhorsen's guard unit has been decimated, I wish to accompany her. I have not been awarded the Amkr so I am not tied to the guild. I can defend myself physically and magically and I am keen to travel."  
  
"I would be pleased to have Araniel's company with me." interjected Lirael, she realised that the masters cared for Araniel dearly and would not wish to send her into danger. "Both in defence and council."

"I do not wish to see you go." the master replied." But since it is not only yours but the Abhorsen's wish, I give my consent. You must equip yourselves from the armoury. It is important you are prepared."

Araniel could have embraced all of the masters were it not frowned upon.

She finally had here wish, to go on an adventure, without the restraints of the guild.

Hope you all enjoyed this chapter, more will be up very soon (hope)

just a little hint: the next chapter is called _New Gifts_

hope you enjoy it

charterfire


	6. New Gifts

Chapter 6: New Gifts.

The two days before Araniel departed were filled with preparation.

Bags were packed including food, water containers, clothes, shelter equipment, rope and many spelled and un-spelled objects that were essential.

In the evening before they went, Araniel went to the high armoury with the guildmaster.

This armoury held some of the most powerful weapons in the guild. Spelled by masters decades or centuries ago.

Araniel was surprised, normally it was only Amkr possessors who were allowed to take weapons from this store. They walked however straight through the room and into a passage that lead from behind the racks.

They passed many layers of spells as they walked, but none stopped them. As they reached the end room, the master disabled a further wall of marks. Then lead on through.

The room was dimly lit, charter spells ran over the walls, ancient but reeking of power. On a table carved of rowan lay a large collection of weapons.

These had evidently been made with so much care and skill. But they seemed incomplete. They looked dead. The weapon's marks stood still, held onto the metal and wood with power.

Save one. An axe lay amidst the weapons, it's blade glistened with marks, its handle of oak and the steel blade seemed to call for her.

"Over a thousand years ago, the Clayr saw a girl. She would be brought to us as a baby, and she would far overcome her piers. I do not know whether that describes you Araniel but they also said that this woman could empower the flames of this castle. We saw you summon the sendings, no-one has called their fire since that sight. This axe was made for you."

It was not an offer, he was telling her that it was hers. She wanted to say that she couldn't take it, but she knew it was hers.

"Thank you!" returned Araniel, embracing the master before raising the axe.  
  
It was light as air, but sharp and hard as diamond. It seemed to know what she wanted. She looked around the curve of the blade, reading an inscription that formed from charter marks.

_The Clayr saw me. The Guild made me. The free wield me. Gracen._

Once they left the armoury Araniel went to her chamber to dress for the feast that had been prepared.

As she dressed she looked back to her chamber. It was not a large room, or richly furnished.

There was a double bed in the centre, covered in many blankets to protect against the draughts. In one couner there was a desk, next to it were the book shelves, Araniel had many books and had spent much of her childhood studying the charter and the kingdom.

On the side of the room next to the door lay a large cupboard next to a dresser. In front of the fireplace was a large armchair and in another corner was the basin and chamber pot.

The room would always be her home.

Against her judgement she put on her evening dress for the feast. She normally didn't believe in dresses as they were impractical and ripped so easily, but it was customary. So she donned the black fabric and sat at her separate dressing table.

Looking into the mirror she viewed the results of her brushing. Her wavy brown hair fell around her shoulders, gleaming and glinting in many facets from the charter light.

She had tanned skin which complemented her dark eyes. She had never thought of herself as beautiful, nor unattractive. Araniel placed little faith in appearance.

As she extinguished the spelled light Araniel descended the staircase down to the great hall. The tables had been put together to make a larger one that the whole guild could sit at.

The masters sat amongst the apprentices as Araniel was called up to sit next to the high master and Lirael.

Much like the Clayr's glacier, there were no servants in the guild, each member did their part, and thus the feast was brought from the kitchens by guildsmen and women who placed the food then sat down with everyone else.

Once the wine glasses had been filled, the master rose to give a speech.

"Members of the charter guild!" announced the master, a smile on his weather-beaten face, "we hold this feast today as we bid a farewell to our guest and friend, the Abhorsen. Also to give our goodbyes, if only for a short time, to our sister, Araniel. They both go out to endure the dangers that threaten our kingdom and we wish them safety and the best of luck." he raised his glass and was mimicked by the whole guild.

Raising their glasses and drinking deeply before tucking in to the delectable food. The rest of the evening passed in merriment, all of the guildsmen enjoying themselves before retiring for a preparatory sleep.

The sun rose slowly over the mountains of Aunden, glimmering delicately from the sea of Saere. A cold sea breeze picked up heat as it headed for the guild isle.

There the party was setting off. Lirael and Araniel were at the centre of the group, three guards in front and a further eight behind, the other nine of the group had been killed. They were followed by a unit of the elite guards of the guild. The group was mounted on the finest horses of the guild, although they could not be spared beyond the village.

After they bid farewell to the masters formally (Araniel had bidden her own private farewells earlier) they thundered up the spit into the rising sun.

As they rode, Lirael explained the party's approach to battle.

"Destroy the dead if you can, but not so much that their spirit can escape, I will banish the spirits. If there are humans fighting you, try not to kill them, but restrain them using force if it is necessary. The primary concern is survival, and not getting hurt, their lives come below your own. Leave the greater dead to me. Unless you are completely certain that you can take them yourself then defend and seek help."

While this explanation was going on, Lirael was not the only one surveying Araniel's reaction.

One of the guards, called Canje was watching, entranced. He thought that Araniel was one of the most beautiful people he had ever seen.

She was not conventional in her looks, but her eyes seemed to grab him and pull him into their dark depths. Her whole appearance was enchanting and enthralling.

However he did not have time to further contemplate because they reached the village. The group dismounted and tied up the horses, the went to the centre.

It was a circle of houses with the broken stone in the centre, the windows of the houses were broken but the curtains drawn.

Lirael could smell the stench of death, mixed with a queasy feeling from the broken stone.

"There are twenty three dead in the village." Araniel began slowly, showing a shocking affiliation, Lirael had not though to see the exact number btu she only knew of herself that could feel the dead so accurately,

"there are five in each of the large houses at the four compass points and another three scattered, there is also a large dead thing in death near the charter stone."

"What! How can you know that, you are not a necromancer."  
  
"I don't know Lirael, I can just see them with my mind."

Lirael sensed testing Araniel's theory, she was right, and when Lirael took the time to think as Araniel had it was easy.

"The other three are to the right of the west hall. We will draw the creatures out of each building at a time. To the north building!"

As the guards gathered Lirael send a powerful spell for light into the building, stronger than the daylight, this sent the dead running into the circle to meet a shower of sparks as they met charter spelled weapons.

All five were killed and their spirits banished by Saraneth's call. But the gargled screams from rotting mouths had alerted the other dead.

As a cloud came over the noon sun they came out of the houses, spreading out to become a more dangerous foe.

As the dead charged, the guards increased their pace, they did not want the dead to reach them with momentum.

Three of the most dim witted dead charged into cast marks of purity and fell but fifteen crashed into the shields that the guards wore before beginning combat.

The dead were different than usual, they had been made using the spirits of fighters and thus were far more dangerous, they remembered their skills.

But the elite and royal guards were holding on. Araniel and Lirael were helping, the troops were failing and they were now out numbered, Lirael was facing three dead, being forced to defend with one arm preventing the use of many spells or the bells.

Araniel was also facing three dead, suddenly they all attacked in a volley of manoeuvres forcing Araniel back. But as one fumbled she saw her chance, raising her axe she made a mighty sweep, knocking them back for long enough to destroy two with a blast of golden-blue charter fire.

Unfortunately the one that was left was the most skilled and leapt back into a vicious assault.

About to make a critical swipe, the corpse was knocked back by a wave of energy that emanated from the charter stone.

In a split second, all of the dead were knocked back by the presence of a fresh mordicant that leapt through the portal to death.

Heading straight for Araniel.

Without time for thought, Araniel shaped her fingers into a form she did not know and spoke the words of power that materialised in her mind, and as boiling strength rose in her throat a bolt of crimson lightning blasted forth, wounding the mordicant and sending it flying. Not destroying it but nevertheless a powerful assault of free magic.

hope you enjoyed this chapter (now review my pretties review review evil cackle)

another hint for the next chapter is that araniel uses more free magic and mogget/yrael is involved

will be up soon

charterfire


	7. A Stroll in Death

A Stroll in Death. 

The guards had taken the opportunity when the dead were knocked back to quickly destroy their physical forms, but their spirits fled away as Lirael was too absorbed in the mordicant to banish them.

The fiery infernos that raged in it's eyes and mouth had intensified, distorting the air so it shimmered. It paced assessing its enemies.

"Araniel, defend the others," Lirael asked softly, "then draw a diamond of protection around my body, I'm going into death."

Before the mordicant could move, Lirael drew Saraneth and Kibeth in one liquid motion. Ringing them in an unconventional spiral motion. The deep commanding tone and the contrary swinging melody throwing both Lirael and the mordicant into death.

Araniel acted quickly, pulling the chain from around her neck, she threw the diamond hoop amidst the guards so it threw up protections. Drawing a swift diamond of protection around Lirael, she turned to the charter stone. Looking towards it Araniel started walking, and half expecting to hit her head on the black granite, kept walking until she felt a cold current pulling at her legs.

The grey clouded sky dropped mist onto the river, obscuring Araniel's view of Lirael and the mordicant.

When Araniel traversed her way downstream, she realised that the current was not drawing so strongly on her legs, but the mist was moving fast, pulled downriver by the crashing force that Araniel could just hear, muted by the pallor of death's atmosphere.

Escaping through the folds of mist, Araniel set her eyes of the battling pair before her.

Lirael was sweating despite the freezing water. Her black hair fell around her shoulders, the tie that held it back had fallen away.

In her outstretched hand she held a pillbox sized bell, holding the mordicant from attacking by a constant calming melody. But holding the sword kept her form drawing a second bell.

Araniel chose to distract the mordicant herself.

Drawing an arrow from her quiver, she set it into her bow. The arrow flew straight and true.

Striking the mordicant in the side, sending up a plume of sparks and steam.

The rowan shaft had been treated in the sea of Saere, the barbed crystal point glowed with marks for purity and destruction.

Lirael, in a triumphant flourish, sheathed what had once been Nehima, and drew Saraneth.

Ringing the sleeper and commander in a complex pattern sent the mordicant into a hypnotised stupor, then the sound of Kibeth sent it underwater, a trail of steam marking its path through the first gate and through to the ninth.

After watching this, Lirael turned, replacing Saraneth and Ranna.

"Araniel?" Lirael stared in disbelief, taking a deep breath she continued, "we'll talk back in life."

Araniel was first to reach the border.

Shielding her eyes against the harsh sunlight, Araniel whispered a spell that brought the diamond hoop flying into her hand while she brushed the ice off her hair and clothes.

Dropping Lirael's diamond, Araniel retied the chain around her neck and waited.

The ice covering Lirael cracked as she emerged from death, the confused look still present on her face.

At first she seemed lost for words, but then asked, "have you walked in death before? Or used free magic?"

Araniel shook her head.

"Mogget better be able to explain this."

The trip to the Abhorsen house was uneventful, but made shorter by Araniel keeping her personal horse Jhara. She carried the equipment and food so everyone could walk faster.

Even so it took 8 days. But when they got to the foot of the great stair case, a messenger hawk arrived, landing on Lirael's arm and relaying the message in a deep but calm voice which belonged to King Touchstone.

"Lirael, its Touchstone I hope this finds you soon. My spies have informed me that an army of dead is heading for Belisaire. They are lead by a trio of necromancers. They are meant to arrive in the dark of the moon. I fear that I will need your help, and the help of the guards that I sent with you please come soon. Touchstone."

"The dark of the moon in is eight days, you should leave now. Me and Araniel will come on later in the paperwing."

Throwing a large purse to the head guard, Lirael continued, "Use that to hire horses if they do not lend you them in my or the King's name."

The guards bowed, silent as ever, and turned to leave. Araniel quickly caught up with them and lent them Jhara; she would not tire as easily as the horses they would hire. They again bowed their thanks and marched on swiftly.

Lirael handed Araniel her bags and they walked up into the mountain. Araniel stopping for a minute to marvel at the crossing of the Ratterlin then almost slipping as she tried to catch up with Lirael's broad stride.

Once they entered the whitewashed doorway and went into the courtyard. They were met by a small white cat who leapt onto Lirael's shoulder for a better view.

"So this is the free mage?" Mogget questioned his voice imperious as always but with an underlying respectful current, "You two took your time."

"The what?" Araniel returned, Mogget evidently no introduction to her.

"You are the woman who wounded the mordicant with free magic? You walked in death and assisted the Abhorsen?"

"Yes, but only very recently and I don't know what a free mage is."

"I'm not surprised, I never thought those guildsmen could do anything properly, for a start some of the guildsmen freshly out thought they'd try their luck at trapping me," he chuckled, a slightly strange noise, scratchy through his feline form. "They didn't last long but it was funny watching them dance." He paused enjoying a memory. "But your education will have to wait, for now we have more pressing matters."

Leaping down and looking towards Lirael, he became more serious.

"Lirael, He is awake."

After giving their bags to a cream robed sending, they walked across the great hall and down a long staircase down into the cellars. Through a long collection of corridors they came to a second stair that lead to one room. In front of the rowan door stood a black robed sending who brandished a long spelled blade, after bowing to Lirael he stepped aside, the door opening.

Lirael took a deep breath, and with a hand on her bandolier to steady her nerves, she walked through the heavy set of guardian spells into the room.

The chamber was dark granite, powerful spells for containment and entrapment flowed over the stone like water leaving no part untouched.

In the centre of the room a small black cat prowled, who began speaking in a harsh voice once it saw Lirael.

"Release me from this disgusting collar at once! I am Prince Rogir and I demand respect and liberation!"

Since Sabriel had been killed by Orrannis, Lirael had summoned her spirit using the boat spell, and consequently knew everything about being the Abhorsen, her now beloved sister and family, and of course the tale of Kerrigor.

"Well since your body has now been destroyed, you have no right to a royal title. Your illegitimate brother now rules the Old Kingdom and you are condemned to spend eternity in this room in the form you now inhabit." Lirael finished her information with satisfaction. Had this feline abomination succeeded in his plans she would have no family and would be trapped in the Clayr's Glacier, if it had not been destroyed by Orrannis.

"Insolent child," Kerrigor paused, "Wait. You are not the Abhorsen I should have killed. She must be dead. Excellent!"

At this Mogget lost control, growing to the size of a white tiger, his fur stood on end as he released a colossal roar. This in turn sent a force that sent Kerrigor flying into the wall across the room. The black fur on his leg replaced by large red blisters as he brushed the guardian spells. Lirael meanwhile drew Saraneth, its deep voice making Kerrigor stop in his tracks, unable to lick his wound.

"Why have you awakened?" asked Lirael calmly.

"One of my followers has continued my quest," began the cat in a monotone voice, "the plan was agreed before I was broken. I do not know his name."

Having aquired the information she wanted, Lirael sent Kerrigor into a Ranna induced slumber.

After returning to the ground floor, Lirael retired for a bath and advised Araniel to do the same, but she did so in a slightly vacant state, deep in thought a sending took Araniel to a bedroom and gave her a scrubbing, the ferocity of which was easily made up for by the sensation of the hot water and the feeling of cleanliness.

Freshly clothed, Araniel walked out into the gardens, as it was autumn, the trees seemed burning with an aurora of orange and gold, the weeping willow trees that sat near the walls seeming to stream fire onto the still lush lawn. Coming to a central point in the garden, she took a seat on top of a covered well and looked into the sky that seemed smaller from the garden, due to the large fresh white walls. She saw two spots…

"Gore crows, well created but nearly entirely rotten."

Araniel's mindset changed, drawn from her happy state of mind that the bath had returned her to she felt rage and disgust rising like bile, but it wasn't bile. The spell she had worked before was now obvious to her, the words in that harsh tongue glowing in her mind.

"Use the spell, we both know you want to." His voice was kinder than usual, with the slight patronizing tone that isn't noticed by the younger party.

"Why? Lirael told me that you always have an agenda, well nearly always."

"I just want the spies dead." She thought his tone would have been as deceptive as a cat's even if he was unbound.

Araniel turned, suspicious as it was it was still as much encouragement as she needed. Holding up her hand towards the crows, she spoke the almost familiar words, enjoying the sensation like strong spirits on her tongue as a bolt of black edged crimson shot and decimated one of the crows.

When she turned around, happy, Mogget was walking back towards the house. Pausing but not turning round to say.

"Well done my niece."

OK hope that you all enjoyed this chapter, to jordan sorry but mogget will not be unbound till the next chapter or possibly later

please review!

charterfire


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